


Simple little heart of mine

by impossibletruths



Series: weary and worn are our sad souls now [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Birthday, Gen, Gift Giving, Pre-Canon, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:18:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9374063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossibletruths/pseuds/impossibletruths
Summary: Today is their birthday. And no one all day mentioned it, so he and Vex have made plans. Plans that involve sneaking out in the middle of the night, because who gives a fuck anymore. These people already think they’re a pair of ragged, wild, half-breed bastards. There’s not much more they can do to spare their reputation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "We Were Better Off" by Elenowen.

Ilmariel clings to his shoulder as they creep down the stairs, feet digging into the thin fabric of his shirt.

“We’re gonna be in so much trouble,” the wren mutters, and Vax waves a hand to shush her. She grumbles, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, wings fluttering slightly. Both are wound tight with anxiety; they have been caught sneaking out on previous occasions and it has never ended well.

But today is different. Today is their _birthday_. And no one, all day, mentioned anything of it, so he and Vex have made plans. Plans that involve sneaking out in the middle of the night, because who gives a fuck anymore. These people already think they’re a pair of ragged, wild, half-breed bastards. There’s not much more they can do to spare their reputation.

And, anyways. It’s their birthday. Mother always said if there was a day to break the rules, it was for your birthday.

Vax is fairly certain she meant rules like “no sweets before dinner” and “get up early to do your chores,” but that’s beside the point.

He skips the last step––it creaks––and presses close to the shadows, soft soles of his boots making no sound against the smooth ground. His instructors all say he has a lightness of foot that is almost as good as a full-blooded elf; they say between that and his growing skill with a blade he might make a formidable opponent one day.

Vax doesn’t care much about being a formidable opponent. He does what he does because he likes doing it, and he definitely likes being able to slip in and out unnoticed. That skill is is more than happy to perfect.

The tricky part done with, he and Ilmariel take off down what passes for streets in Syngorn, Ilmariel flying circles around him as they run, feet light and swift as her wings, until they reach the meeting spot, the roots of a towering tree at the edge of the city. Vex is nowhere to be found.

“Maybe she got caught,” Ilmariel suggests, settling back on his shoulder. She has been a wren for a few days now. Vax wonders if she’s going to stick like this. Oraman has already picked a shape, has been settled for weeks. Vax doesn’t like the feeling of being left behind. Especially not by his sister.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snaps. “Of course she hasn’t. She’s just slow.”

Ilmariel fluffs her wings and doesn’t respond, and Vax kicks angrily at the roots of the tree.

“What did that poor tree do to you?” a voice pipes up from behind him, and Vax spins around so fast he nearly falls over, and Vex steps forward out of the dark, her daemon on her heels. Her hair has come loose from its braid, and it forms a tangled cloud around her face.

“You’re late,” says Vax, reproachful. Vex makes a face.

“Someone was up in the study. I had to wait for them to go to bed.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too. So, are we going?”

“Pretty sure as the responsible one, you’re supposed to talk me out of this.”

“Shut up, dick.”

“Alright, alright. Yeah, we’re going.”

Vex shakes her hair out of her face and brushes past him deeper into the forest, where everyone says they aren’t supposed to go.

But then, he and his sister rarely do what everyone tells them to. He passes a hand over his pocket, to make sure his gift for her is still there, and follows.

They press through the dark together, until they reach Their Tree, which is not quite as good as their tree back home, but is a good enough replacement for now.  Vax gives his sister a boost up to the lowest branch so she in turn can reach down and pull him up, a system they repeat a good half dozen times, until the branches are close enough together that they can climb up on their own. They continue upwards until they’re tucked among the thicket of the forest canopy. They can still make out the soft, silver light of the elven city through the trees, and patches of the clear, starry sky poke through the branches overhead, but besides that it is nearly dark.

Luckily, their father passed on his superior eyesight, one of the few gifts he’s managed to leave them. They can see perfectly fine.

Vax wedges himself in the fork of a branch while Vex sits right below him, back against the wide trunk, one leg dangling off into the gaping emptiness below them. Here, at the top of the world, they may the only people who exist.

“Happy birthday,” says Vex, staring up at him, and the half hidden quilt of stars above him. "Kind of a shitty one isn’t it.”

Vax scowls. “I didn’t see our darling father all day, did you?”

Vex’s laugh drips with derision. “Of course not.”

For a moment they bask in that shared scorn, and pretend their father’s distance and disregard doesn’t cut deep. Vax breaks the silence first. He has never had much luck with patience.

“I got you something,” he says.

“I got you something too,” she says. “Want to go first?”

“Yeah.” Carefully, afraid of dropping it, Vax fishes the present out of his pocket. It’s not much to look at, about the size of his palm and wrapped with paper he stole during today’s lesson. He hooks one elbow around the branch of the fork he has crammed himself in and stretches down to press it into Vex’s reaching hand, not letting go until he feels her fingers tighten around it.

“It’s heavy,” she says, sounding surprised. Vax sits up again and watches as she pokes at it. Oraman leaps from one branch to another to saunter up to her, settling on his haunches, tail flicking slightly, the only indicator of their excitement.

“Open it,” Vax encourages, and she does, peeling away the paper to reveal a heavy compass, made of wood and brass, a loop connecting it to a chain so she might wear it around her neck. Her mouth makes a little oh of surprise as she peers at it more closely, holding it steady and watching the needle twist north.

“I know how much you like being out here,” Vax says. “In the forest. So I though. Y’know. So you won’t get lost. It’s got something on the back, but it might be too dark to see.”

Immediately Vex flips it over, fingers running along the carving he etched into the back. Oraman steps forward to peer at it, nose almost brushing the cool wood. “It’s a flower,” he says, a little confused.

“Helenium,” Vax confirms. “For Mother. So you’ve got her with you, wherever you go.”

Below him, Vex lets out a long breath. “You’re such a sap,” she says, and Vax hears the waver in her voice.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because it is their thirteenth birthday, the day that is supposed to welcome them into adulthood, and they are out in the woods with nothing but each other, and so what if he is a sap. She’s the only one who knows it. She’s the only one who gets to see.

“I’ve got something for you too,” she says, and she pulls something off her belt, a long gift wrapped in cloth, and passes it up to him. Vax holds it in his hands, feeling the weight of it. He has a good idea what it is.

It is indeed a dagger. A simple thing, double edged, slightly curved, grip wrapped in leather.

“I know how good you are with them,” says Vex below him. “And I know you enjoy it. I think you should keep it up. Show all these stuck up assholes how good you are.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re a badass. Be a badass.”

At his shoulder, Ilmariel shivers and shifts, and a moment later a small, red squirrel scampers into his lap, hands pressing against the flat of the blade.

“It says something,” she says, almost surprised. “ _Dartha hîm._ ”

“Stand steadfast,” Vax translates, and glances down at Vex with a raised eyebrow. She scowls at him.

“I got it like that,” she says, and he know’s she’s lying, but he’s touched, so he doesn’t press.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he says instead. “Let me fix it.”

“It’s only going to get messy again,” she tells him, but she shifts over anyways, so he can join her on the branch, and he carefully untangles her hair so he can braid it again, a familiar, soothing ritual. On a branch above them, Ilmariel and Oraman groom each other, bright squirrel and dark cat, and Vax would challenge any stranger to pick which daemon belongs to which twin.

They’re mixed up in each other, best friends and better halves, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

All in all, it isn’t a half bad birthday.


End file.
